Wildest Dreams
by owlwayssandforever
Summary: Post-mockingjay thing. Not an AU.


_Say you'll see me again_

_Even if it's just in your wildest dreams_

He hates closing his eyes now. Every time he does, he sees fire. It burns his eyes, searing the image into his brain long after he opens them again. He doesn't sleep much anymore. Dark circles are forming under his eyes, but he doesn't care. It's better than hearing her screams, the little girl he had loved like a sister. The little girl he had killed.

There is a place, where the forest is dense and the tree trunks close together, where the sound of birds chirping reminds him of innocent days in the woods back home, before everything changed. Here, he dozes off, lulled to sleep by the lullabies provided by nature. That's when they're together again, the only time he can be reunited with his best friend. In reality, he had probably seen her most with a bow in hand, or a bag filled with freshly caught game to trade, but in his dreams he saw her smiling, happy, worry-free, as he had so rarely seen her. His subconscious imagined her without the creases in her forehead where her eyebrows were permanently furrowed in concern. He saw her the way she looked the day of the reaping, such a feminine dress flowing over all her hard muscles, showing the strength of the woman wearing it, but tempering it with just a hint of softness. That was the Katniss he knew, fierceness coupled with a caring nature, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. There was no denying it, if you ever saw her with her sister, that she had a natural instinct for protecting, for taking care of others. She still had scars in his dreams, little pink lines that the Capital had removed in the "beautification" process. By all means, she was not perfect, but she was _there_, and seemingly so real, and his dreams of her were so much better than his day to day life. He began slipping away from his work more and more frequently to go to that hidden spot, sneaking naps as often as possible. Anything to be with her again, even if it was just pretend.

This particular day, he dreamt they were in his house in the Seam, a rare moment alone there while his mother fetched the kids from some neighbor's place. She was laughing gently, the sound plastering a smile on his face, and he launched himself at her, tickling her in all the secret spots that made her squeal and gasp for air, laughing too hard to breathe. They didn't even notice the arrival of company until Posy launched herself at his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and hanging on for dear life. He pretended to be more startled than he was, whirling around and whipping his head from side to side, looking to see what could have possibly snuck up on his. Then, grabbing her with one arm, he hauled her over his shoulder and made a big fuss about how sneaky she was, and he settled her on his hip, tapping her nose with one finger and teasing the little girl until she too was laughing so hard she clutched her stomach. Turning back to Katniss, he grinned at her, taking in the whole sight in front of him. She was leaning back on her elbows, hair falling out of her braid in loose waves, eyes shining with affection.

He woke with a start, shaken out of his reverie by noises or footsteps or anything, it didn't really matter. He kept his eyes closed tight shut, struggling to keep hold of her face, lit up with happiness, though it was already fading into darkness. He lived for these dreams, these glimpses of her, the closest thing he could get to seeing the face of someone he had loved so much, for so long, someone who was his family, someone who was lost to him now, forever, except in those moments of sleep where reality disintegrated and anything was possible. He missed his best friend so much, his heart ached. Gale allows himself one moment of weakness, one gasping sob, one tear, before he pulls it together, climbing to his feet and donning the façade of indifference he wears like a mask in front of the rest of the world.

* * *

She rarely hunts anymore. When she does, she is struck with visions of her arrows piercing bodies that transform into her sister, catching fire and exploding around her. It makes her antsy, not being able to go into the woods. She fidgets and fusses all day long, trying anything to expel all the energy pent up inside her, but it's better than seeing the flames.

Some days, she just can't take it though, and she ventures out to safe spots, places where there are memories other than shooting, where there are happy moments she can draw on, try desperately to focus on instead of the nightmares. It's hard to be in the woods without missing him, though. She always expects him to sneak up on her, expects to turn around and see him standing there, watching her with a strange look on his face that she never could identify. She wants to see that look again so badly, wants to hear his laugh, make him smile, erase the lines that had formed on both their faces already, after so much worry. A lifetime of worry, maybe more.

She forgave him a while ago, when her grief started to ease and she saw clearly what she had known in the moment she had shot her arrow at Coin - it was never his fault, it never could have been. He knew he must be as damaged as she was, must have been grieving as much as her, because he had seen the younger girl like his little sister, helped to take care of her and provide for her as much as possible.

She thought she saw him today, while she was walking in the woods. She had been making her way to the little cabin, and she could have sworn she saw him walking a few feet away, silent as ever, looking over at her and smiling, and she called out to him, but he passed behind a tree and never came out. She ran over to it, thinking maybe it was a game, maybe he was hiding from her, but she circled the trunk three times and couldn't find him, collapsing at the base and holding her head in her hands. She missed her best friend so much, his smell, his laughter, the way lines of blue danced through his grey Seam eyes. She missed his strength, the way he had helped her heal - the way they had helped each other heal after their fathers had died. She missed his caring nature, they way his hands, which looked so rough, made delicate snares and felt soft to the touch when he was comforting her, or teaching her something new, or talking about their siblings.

She sat there for a while, lost in memories, both real and imagined, before she felt the courage to go home, to face her life without him by her side, as he had been for so many years. She was lucky to have Peeta, she knew, and he would take her of her, comfort her, love her, and she would try as hard as she could to give him the broken pieces of her heart, but all the same, Katniss missed her friend, and felt a little hole in her life where she wished he still was.


End file.
